


Project Quantum Pegasus

by springwoof



Category: Quantum Leap, Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: "lemon incident", Challenge Response, Crossover, Episode Related, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-01
Updated: 2010-04-01
Packaged: 2017-10-08 14:38:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/76685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/springwoof/pseuds/springwoof
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"I'm damned tired of aliens taking over my body," Sheppard told Sam. "How the hell has nobody noticed that you're not me?"</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Project Quantum Pegasus

**Author's Note:**

> **Betae:** Thanks to [dkwilliams](http://dkwilliams.livejournal.com/profile) and [candymike](http://candymike.livejournal.com/profile) for "leaping" in with their super QL beta skillz. **Much** appreciated! And, as always, thanks to [Leah](http://www.wraithbait.com/viewuser.php?uid=3), who knows how much she's adored. She was responsible for the reasoning behind my take on a pivotal plot point and outright handed me a couple of lines at the end... Any errors are completely my fault.  
> .  
> **Written For:** originally written for the [Stargate Leap Ficathon](http://community.livejournal.com/stargate_leap/2908.html), for [Miriel](http://mardahin.livejournal.com/profile), who wanted _"Location - Pegasus Galaxy, not Atlantis. Sam Leaps into Sheppard, pairing McKay/Sheppard. Special Request: Sam recognizes McKay from meeting him in person." _ I got everything you wanted, plus I wandered into a few other locations, including Atlantis and New Mexico.   
> The end result is (hopefully) a Quantum Leap episode in the Stargate: Atlantis universe. Hope that was okay.  
> .  
> **Author's Note:** A big ol' handwave on the physics, okay? I _know_ it bears no resemblance to reality, but then again, neither did/does the physics on either show.   
> See End-notes for spoilers.

~*~

**Flash of blue light...**

Sam felt the Leap take him, and after the usual moment of disorientation, he blinked his eyes and looked around him. He was in some kind of forest, surrounded by trees and undergrowth on all sides. An explosion to his right made him duck down reflexively.

"Oh, boy!"

~~~

**Theorizing that one could time travel within his own lifetime, Dr. Sam Beckett stepped into the Quantum Leap accelerator and vanished....**

He awoke to find himself trapped in the past, facing mirror images that were not his own and driven by an unknown force to change history for the better. His only guide on this journey is Al, an observer from his own time, who appears in the form of a hologram that only Sam can see and hear.

And so Dr. Beckett finds himself leaping from life to life, striving to put right what once went wrong and hoping each time that his next leap will be the leap home.  


~~~

This was not good. A woman in some kind of uniform, carrying a large firearm, came sprinting through the undergrowth towards him from the direction of the explosion. He raised the rifle he suddenly realized he was carrying, unsure if she was supposed to be a friend or enemy.

"Colonel Sheppard, they are coming this way! Hurry!" she urged him. Okay, friend then. He followed her as she ran through the trees. And the person he'd Leaped into appeared to be called "Sheppard," and was a Colonel in some branch of the military. Sam wasn't familiar with the uniforms he or the woman were wearing, though.

"John, did you obtain the mineral sample for Dr. McKay?" the woman panted, as she glanced over her shoulder to watch for pursuers. Sam looked over his shoulder as well, and didn't see anything. He _did_ hear additional explosions, though, so he kept running. _Okay. Full name is Colonel John Sheppard,_ he thought. _Good to know. I wonder what _her_ name is? _

"I guess," he replied. "Where are we going?" That was the wrong thing to ask, apparently--she was giving him a worried look as they began to climb a ridge.

"John, are you well? Perhaps you have sustained a head injury." She frowned. "Are you bleeding?" He shook his head, saving his breath for climbing. The woman held out a hand and helped haul him over a fallen log at the top of ridge. They crouched down behind the log to catch their breath, and the woman ran her hands over his head and peered into his eyes. "Are you dizzy? Did you ingest anything? Did you come into contact with any strange devices? Any peculiar animals, or...insects?" She tilted her head at him in inquiry.

"Um, no? Honestly, I feel okay. Aren't those guys coming for us?" Sam desperately hoped for Al to appear any minute now and help him make sense of things before this nice lady took it into her head to shoot him or something.

The woman frowned again and patted his arm. "Very well. This way. Follow me." She touched her ear with one hand and appeared to speak to the air. "Ronon? Rodney? This is Teyla. Come in."

"Yeah."

Sam startled at the low-pitched voice growling right next to him. He brought his hand up to feel the device wrapped around his ear. _Oh, must be a radio. Right._

"You and Sheppard okay? Heard the explosions."

"We are fine, Ronon. Is Dr. McKay there? Has he repaired the DHD?" The woman--Teyla--looked intently into the middle distance as she moved efficiently amongst the trees just on the other side of the ridge from their pursuers. She seemed to be following the ridge, to the....Sam glanced up at the sun, which seemed more reddish than he ever remembered the sun looking. Well, she seemed to be headed west, at any rate.

"Here, I'm here, Teyla. Where's Sheppard? He didn't get himself captured, did he? I _told_ him--" The demanding voice, with its sharp, rapid-fire delivery, was vaguely familiar, as was the name Teyla had called him. McKay... Where had he heard "McKay" before? Had he known the man personally, as Samuel Beckett? Drat the swiss-cheese memory thing!

"I'm _fine_, McKay," Sam put a little impatience in his voice, instinctively knowing that McKay would respond to it. "Are you guys safe?" It seemed a good question to ask, what with people shooting exploding things at them. Teyla's glance seemed to confirm that the statement had been something Sheppard would say.

"We're good." The voice was Ronon's again.

"Well, yes, that's a bit of an oversimplification. If you mean 'are we in good health', then, yes, relatively, though my blood sugar is getting a bit lower than is good for my optimal performance. If you mean 'is anyone currently shooting at us', then, also, for the present, we are mercifully without significant casualties, although my laptop case got some scratches when we slid down that last embankment, and I got a thorn in my thumb that Conan here just _tore out_ without any regard for antiseptic--"

"Rodney," Teyla interrupted. "The DHD?" She aimed an annoyed glance at Sam, as if _he_ was supposed to be doing something about this. Oh. Oh! Probably Colonel Sheppard _would_ be the guy asking about things like this "DHD". Sam wished he knew what a "DHD" _was_ so he could ask about it--

"Yes, yes, I'm _working_ on it!" McKay snapped. "What did you think I was doing? Admiring the mud? Having a sparkling conversation with Ronon?"

Teyla shook her head, a reluctant smile twisting one corner of her mouth. "I was wondering how much more time you needed to repair the DHD. How much longer should we divert the Gidym's attention away from the stargate, Dr. McKay?"

"Ah. Well, I should be done in about ten minutes. You can probably start making your way back now. Did you get a sample of that mineral we were interested in?"

Teyla stopped, scanned the surrounding forest, and began to climb back to the top of the ridge before she turned, as if surprised, and raised her eyebrow at him. Sam halted in his steps to follow her. Drat. That's right. Apparently it had been Sheppard's job to secure a mineral sample. Sam had no idea what the mineral even _looked_ like. He shrugged apologetically at Teyla, crouched down, and began to paw through the pockets of his tac vest to see if he had a sample case in there. Teyla frowned at him.

"Well, did you get the sample or not?" McKay's voice demanded impatiently.

"Just a moment, Rodney, Colonel Sheppard is looking for it. We may have lost it in our efforts to draw the Gidym away from you." Teyla covered for him, but was also looking at Sam impatiently.

He finally drew a plastic specimen jar out of one of his pockets and shook the jar in front of his face. A reassuring rattle came from it, and he peered inside to see a blue-green chunk of metallic stone, about the size of a plum. "Got it!" he told McKay and Teyla, both. He shoved the sample back in his pocket at Teyla's nod.

"We will see you in ten minutes, then," Teyla advised. "Ronon, be ready, the Gidym seem to have some sort of explosive weapons similar to the rocket launchers our Marines enjoy using. Rodney, try to finish your work on the DHD as soon as possible. We will most likely be 'coming in hot', as you say."

"We'll be ready," Ronon promised.

Teyla took a moment to study Sam's face. Sam swallowed his nervousness. In his prior experience, people couldn't really see his own face, instead only the face of the person whose life he'd Leaped into.

"Colonel," Teyla said softly, her voice serious. "You may insist that you are 'fine', but I can tell that you are not yourself. What has happened?"

"Um," Sam swallowed sudden hysterical laughter. "Not himself" indeed! He dithered internally, not knowing what affect whatever he said might have on the problem he had Leaped in to resolve. Where the heck was Al? Gushie should have triangulated on him and gotten Al in here by now. "I really feel okay, Teyla. Just spaced out a little, I guess." He shrugged hopelessly. "Shouldn't we get going?"

"Very well. This way." But the look Teyla gave him told Sam that he hadn't heard the end of this. Hopefully, Al would be able to brief him before Teyla got the chance to ask more questions.

After that, it was a lot of running and ducking and shooting with the funny-looking rifle in his arms, and more running, and sliding in the mud and tripping over tree roots. He never did end up getting a good look at their pursuers. He wondered what country they were from. Heck, he wondered what country they were _in_. It looked a lot like the North American Pacific Northwest. He didn't remember any war in Canada.

He and Teyla finally ended up literally sliding through the mud into a clearing where a large circular monument stood on its end on a low, broad pedestal, and two men--one in a uniform similar to theirs and the other looking like an extra in a "Mad Max" movie--were standing next to a sculpture that looked vaguely like a giant, waist-high, mushroom. What a weird place to put artwork, in the middle of a forest like that.

"Done!" the guy in the uniform announced in a triumphant voice, as if he had won some sort of contest. He rapidly began to press down on carved portions of the mushroom sculpture. "You know I can't dial Atlantis from here, don't you Colonel? Our IDCs aren't working because of the energy field from that mineral. You did get the mineral sample, right? Right?" The man paused in his abuse of the sculpture to glare significantly at Sam. _Ah, this must be McKay._

Sam nodded. "Calm down, McKay, I told you we got it." Golly, that face was familiar. Something about the eyes.

"Then you are dialing the Alpha Site?" Teyla asked McKay.

"No," McKay glanced up at Sam before directing his reply at Teyla. "Before you left, the Colonel had said something about dialing an alternate gate. I dialed MX4-345. Figured we'd be welcome on Aylesta," answered McKay, pushing down on the central red crystal at the center of the mushroom sculpture.

A giant waterfall seemed to suddenly erupt out of the circular sculpture. Sam's reflexive shout of "OH BOY!" was thankfully drowned out by the sound of gunfire and explosions as their pursuers finally began to catch up to them. He turned towards the commotion and began to return fire.

"Hurry! Let us leave this place!" Teyla said, tugging McKay's jacket. They both ran towards the sculpture, which now had what looked like a vertical pool of water spanning its center, plunged right into the water, and _disappeared_.

Sam knew his mouth was hanging right open, the rifle dangling forgotten in his hands. _What the--?_

A tree three feet away on his left took an explosive round, spewing bark in all directions and catching fire. Sam ducked from the flying debris and felt something burning clinging to the sleeve of his jacket. He coughed as the smoke engulfed him and the smell of burning tar tried to smother him.

"Sheppard! Come on!" the big guy, Ronon, bellowed, slapping out the fire and grabbing him by the arm. Before he knew it, Ronon was dragging him towards the vertical wall of water, and Sam had just one moment to take a final gulp of air before his face hit the surface.

***

It was a _wormhole_! These people were using some kind of _wormhole technology_ to travel between different planets! The flash of intuition hit him in the endless moment of transition, in that place _between_. _Oh boy, Al! I really wish I could talk to you right now..._

He had no sooner thought it than it happened. He saw the Waiting Room, and Al, and another man that must be Colonel Sheppard.

"No, Sheppard, you _can't_ change things with your mind!" Al was saying vehemently to Sheppard. "Are you _nuts_? You're not going to make me go away just by _thinking_ about it!"

"Well," Sheppard drawled, clearly furious, but clearly holding it in check. "It's been known to happen before. Maybe I can think a weapon into my hand." He looked down at his hand as if he really expected it to happen.

"Al! Hey, Al!" Sam interrupted.

Al turned with his mouth open to speak to Sheppard, and let it hang open as he stared at Sam.

"Sam! What are you doing here? Sam....you do know that you're...._floating_, don't you? And also that you seem to be--" Al swiped his cigar-filled hand through Sam's body. Sam looked down and saw cigar smoke drifting through his translucent outline. "Well, only semi-visible. How did you do that? Where are you? Gushie's had Ziggy looking for you everywhere and everywhen and Colonel Sheppard here refuses to tell me anything useful." Al stuck his cigar in his mouth and literally fumed.

Colonel Sheppard jumped in before Sam could answer. "What are you doing in my uniform? Where's my team? What the hell is going on?"

Sam ignored him. "Al, I'm on another planet! There's some sort of military top secret project to do with wormholes. Can you get clearance and get Gushie connected to their database? I need to find out what I'm supposed to be doing!"

"Dammit! Answer me! My people were in danger!" the Colonel demanded.

"They're fine, Colonel," Sam answered him. "McKay fixed the mushroom-thing--"

"The DHD?"

"Oh! That's the DHD? Well he fixed it and sent us to...um, MX4-345? Is that right? Where is that?" In utter surprise, Sam watched Colonel Sheppard blush bright red.

"Aylesta? Dammit, Rodney, of all the times to get romantic..." the Colonel muttered.

"Colonel," Sam pleaded. "Please, help Admiral Calavicci. It's the only way you're going to be able to go back to your own time and place."

"Gushie," Sam spoke as loudly as he could, hoping that Gushie could hear him, that Ziggy could record him, or at least that Al would hear and remember and be able to pass the information along. "Doctor Rodney McKay. I think the Leap has something to do with him. I know him from someplace, I just can't figure it out yet. I wish my memory--"

"SAM!" Sam didn't need Al's shout to know that he was disappearing from their sight. He felt intensely dizzy, as if he was in a huge whirlpool, spinning down some immense drain.

 

***

Sam flew out of the other side of the wormhole onto MX4-345 as if shot from a cannon. A loud _boom_ resounded from the big circle as the wormhole collapsed. Sam's body was thrown through the air for a few seconds before crashing into a swimming pool, or...a fountain? He slammed into the water with a force that knocked him out cold for a few seconds before he woke up choking, thrashing, and flailing, with Ronon hauling him out of the water by the scruff of his collar. McKay grabbed onto his belt, and Teyla grabbed a flailing arm and they were all babbling at him, dragging him to safety, patting his limbs, and wiping water from his face, looming over him claustrophobically in their concern.

"That is enough!" came Teyla's stern voice. "Let us allow him to breathe. Rodney, find the medical kit. Ronon, help me roll him onto his side."

The rolled him onto his side in the recovery position and Sam allowed himself to take deep, whooping breaths, coughing out the little bit of water that had managed to lodge inside him. He felt like somebody had dumped a truckload of bricks on him.

"Colonel? John? Are you okay? Is he okay? Does he need CPR? Can he breathe?" the tone of McKay's voice was strident and anxious.

_Oh boy! Rodney McKay!_ The force of memory returning was another ton of bricks dumped on him. Sam had met Rodney McKay at his old undergraduate school, MIT, the last time he'd visited, and had argued physics with him many times since then. No wonder he hadn't recognized McKay. He remembered a skinny blond teenager--intense, brilliant, a workaholic, and the most arrogant and obnoxious individual on the face of the planet. Sam swallowed a hysterical giggle at the thought that McKay was now probably the most obnoxious man on _several_ planets, and coughed instead.

"He can't breathe! Teyla, do something!" McKay didn't sound all that obnoxious now. He just sounded scared. The man here was very different from the teenager Sam remembered, especially since he looked closer to forty than fourteen. His shoulders had broadened, his body had filled out...and his hairline had definitely receded. The eyes were the same though; the same intense blue. The crooked mouth, now twisted in anxiety, was the same too.

Sam reached out and grabbed McKay's hand. "'M fine, Rodn'y," he coughed. "Just, just some water went down the wrong way, is all." McKay clutched Sam's hand in both of his own.

Teyla stroked the wet hair out of his face, feeling his skull, down his neck and his limbs. "Do you hurt anywhere, Colonel?"

"Huh. All over, actually. But nothing broken, I think." Sam used Rodney's grip to help him sit up. "What happened?"

McKay looked over at the big ring. "I'll venture to say that PL3-843's DHD was _definitely_ disabled for a good reason. That wormhole was most likely unstable. Hmm. Maybe we passed through the corona of a sun, or a black hole or something. Although those phenomena have documented effects on the behavior of wormholes used in the stargate system, and this wasn't one of them. Are you sure you're okay, John?" McKay turned to look at Sam again anxiously. Sam noted with amusement that the man hadn't even released his hand yet.

He squeezed McKay's hand and McKay looked down and released Sam's hand self-consciously. "I'm really okay, Rodney."

"We've got company," Ronon rumbled, from his position standing guard over the rest of them.

"Help me up, then," Sam said, accepting McKay and Teyla's help to his feet. He shook the water out of his hair and wrung more water out of his dripping clothes.

A crowd of people were coming up the road leading to the ring--the stargate. The road wound down a hill of groomed parkland, verdant with grasses, shrubs, and plots of flowers, dotted with fountains and benches and, occasionally, gazebos—or, at least, gazebo-like structures.

The people approached closely enough to make out individuals. In the front were several heavily-armed young men, wearing light armor, and, incongruously, pale green tunics and kilts. They were closely followed by a plump woman with abundant gray hair, round pink cheeks, and an anxious face. She wore a pale orange apron over a dark brown dress, and sandals. Suddenly, Ronon and Teyla relaxed. McKay smiled and waved.

"Hildalena!" McKay called.

The gray-haired woman shaded her eyes to peer at them, then suddenly beamed a broad smile as she lifted her long skirts so that she could push past the guardsmen and stride briskly in the team's direction.

"Roddy! Sweeting! Welcome back to Aylesta," she exclaimed happily. Sam turned his head to raise an eyebrow at McKay, who was blushing bright pink but still grinning. Movement caught out of the corner of Sam's eye turned his head in time to witness Ronon rushing at the woman. The warning Sam was going to call about the guards died on his lips as he noticed they'd all lowered their weapons and were smiling as they strolled closer. In the meantime, Ronon had reached Hildalena and picked her up, swinging her in a circle around him, her skirts belling out dramatically.

"Oof! Put me down, Ronon, you big oaf!" Hildalena demanded, but she was laughing a delighted pealing laugh, and Ronon took his time doing so, not letting her feet touch the ground until he had squeezed her into a hug and kissed both her plump cheeks.

Ronon escorted Hildalena back to his team, her arm tucked comfortably into the crook of his arm, her face bright with pleasure and goodwill.

"Teyla, my darling! It's been too long since you've visited us," Hildalena scolded gently, as she and Teyla clasped hands and bent their heads close to touch foreheads together.

"I have missed you and your people as well," Teyla responded, gravely but with a sparkle in her eyes.

"Roddy, my sweet, come give your Auntie Hildalena a hug," she demanded, and McKay promptly complied, taking the opportunity to murmur something quietly to her as well. Sam didn't remember McKay being very huggy or touchy-feely back when he'd known him before, but perhaps it was this place, these people, that made the difference.

The woman came to him last, regarding him with her hands on her hips. "And why are you so shy today, Colonel John? And why so wet? You will get sick." She plucked at his wet clothing and patted his face.

Sam leaned down and gave her a peck on the cheek, as she seemed to expect. "I fell into the fountain, ma'am."

The guards, as well as the small crowd of people who had followed them, all exclaimed and murmured at that. A small red-haired boy in a pale blue tunic wriggled past a knot of his elders to come and cling to the hem of Sam's wet jacket. "How did you fall in, Colonel John? You're not clumsy."

"Um--" Sam patted the child's head and looked pleadingly at Teyla.

"The Circle of the Ancestors had some difficulty, Jospin," explained Teyla helpfully. "It delivered Colonel Sheppard more forcefully than usual."

A young red-haired woman in a long, dark blue dress and bright white apron came and took the child's hand. "That is very unfortunate. Were you hurt, Colonel? Do you need medical care?"

Sam shook his head. "No, thanks, ma'am, I'm fine. Just wet."

"Thank you for your kind offer, Mara," said Teyla pleasantly.

"Does the Circle still work?" asked a red-haired, bearded man in long slate-blue robes, striding forward on sandaled feet to stand next to Mara and Jospin. He folded his arms across his chest and peered up at the stargate.

"That's a good question, actually, Adran," said McKay, bustling over to the DHD. "Since we need to check in with our people anyway, let me see." He looked up suddenly, his brow furrowed. "If...if that's okay, Hildalena?"

"Of course, Sweeting. It makes good sense, and of course you must check in with your Dr. Weir," said Hildalena. "Did you come here to visit us specifically, or did you come on your way from somewhere else?"

"The latter, Hildalena," said Teyla, with a regretful incline of her head. "We did not bring anything to trade, I'm afraid. We came because we knew we could rely on your people's kindness."

Adran had gone to stand next to McKay at the DHD, studying it as McKay's hands pushed down what Sam could now see where coded keys. McKay pressed the red crystal at the center and the wormhole formed dramatically in the big circle. Sam watched as McKay keyed in some sort of code with a device strapped to his wrist.

"Colonel Sheppard? Dr. McKay? This is Atlantis. What is your status? You're late for check-in," came a voice over the radio.

Sam thought rapidly. "Um. We're--we're fine. We're calling from MX4-345. There was something wrong with the DHD on PL3-843. Dr. McKay can explain." He nodded at McKay, who thankfully took over the conversational ball with their home base—code-named "Atlantis" Sam noted.

"Teyla, Colonel John, please ask your Dr. Weir to allow you to stay with us, at least overnight," Hildalena asked. "You know how much we enjoy your company. I'm sure we have some dry clothes for you, Colonel John. Adran has found additional devices that may have been left by the Ancestors, and we know Dr. Rodney likes to examine them. We will take the opportunity to have a dance and a roast--what did you call it last time, Colonel John? a 'barbecue'--in the town square. I think Leylor and Hurst can even be persuaded to make some of those pastries that Ronon and Dr. Rodney like so much."

Teyla and Ronon turned identical pleased and pleading expressions on him, like kids asking to go to a birthday party. Sam felt a silly grin come out on his face as he nodded at Teyla. "Why don't you go ahead and make the request, Teyla? You know what'll be convincing."

Teyla made a demure face as she nodded, then went over to stand next to McKay and Adran, waiting for her turn to speak. It was probably best that Sam stayed away from their home base as long as possible, at least until Al finally got back to him with some sort of clue about what his role was in this Leap.

Sam took a moment to marvel that interplanetary travel had turned out to be so strange, yet so familiar. Despite the novel mode of transport, the "aliens" all looked human enough, and acted human too--some of them were willing to shoot you on sight, and others were ready to throw a party just because you'd come to visit. He felt obscurely disappointed, somehow, like the experience should be much, much stranger than it was turning out to be. He felt like announcing to the people around him that he'd seen _much_ weirder things before, and they were letting down the entire concept of "aliens." Instead, Sam let himself ruffle Jospin's hair again, and grinned.

***

Faint sounds of music and laughter and the smell of barbecue trailed him later that night as Sam made his way into the guest quarters—a sturdy little one-room cottage with thick, river-stone walls covered with a creamy white plaster and a grey clay-tile roof on top. The only door was heavy, sturdy wood with a close, dark grain. There was a latch that kept the door closed, but no lock or bar, and Sam mused on the dearth of crime intimated by that simple lack. The room smelled like wax and dried flowers, much less musty than any guest quarters Sam had ever remembered staying in before—their hosts must have aired it out for him. There was a sturdy wooden table just inside the door, and he set the lamp he carried down carefully.

The lamp used some kind of glowing, crystal-infused gel instead of fire, and the light was honey-gold and warm, sparkling with reflections from the crystals. It lapped over the homey furnishings of the room, making them look familiar and cheerful and the alien parts less noticeable. The light reflected back from the surfaces of the three windows set deeply into their sills—one on each wall of the house except for the wall with the door. The windows weren't made of glass, he remembered Adran mentioning over supper, but the polished carapace of some kind of large domesticated insect. Sheppard's team had all looked over at him worriedly after that pronouncement, as if Sam--or rather, Sheppard--had something against bugs.

Sam set his weapons and his cleaned and dried uniform down on one of the chairs by the table and slowly circled the room. He trailed his fingers over the top of the wooden table, then over the slick stone countertop next to it, and the slightly cooler stone of the sink next to that. One wall was almost completely covered in broad shelves, except for a cubby framing the window in the center. The shelves were filled with covered baskets, of different sizes, shapes, and colors. He lifted the cover on one of the smaller baskets and saw that it was full of the fuel pellets the townsfolk had used at the barbecue.

He scooped one up in his hand. It looked and felt rather like a hockey puck, except it was a bit heavier. He carried it over to the heater/stove combination across the room. It looked a lot like the ones that had been used for cooking the barbecue and then heating the pavilion with the dancers. He hoped it worked like they had as well, because he was chilly, the sharp night air biting at his bare skin—and right now, Sam had more skin bare than he was used to. Goose bumps decorated his arms and naked legs, the borrowed kilt he was wearing no real protection from the chill. He opened the compartment on top of the stove, dropped in the fuel pellet, and turned the lever on the side. A few minutes of shivering later, the stove began to sigh and emanate heat. Sam stood near it for a few more minutes, absorbing the warmth, before going in search of another necessity.

He found it in the large closet next to the bed. The toilet was basic, but it was indoors, which apparently was something to be grateful for. The kilt was at least useful in this circumstance. Sam hadn't appreciated it at all during the dancing.

There was a mirror attached to the inside door of the toilet closet. It was probably more insect-carapace instead of glass, but it reflected well enough so that Sam could take a look at his new face--Colonel Sheppard's face. This was what people saw now when they looked at him.

The face was handsome, but more importantly, interesting to look at. A little sharp, with pointed nose, chin, and even elvish ears, but balanced by a full, curvy mouth and bright, clever eyes. The body was long and lean, fit and sturdy. And a tad hairy, he acknowledged, with a rueful glance at the legs and somewhat knobby knees exposed below the hem of the pleated kilt.

"There you are!" exclaimed McKay, bursting in through the front door, startling Sam out of his boots--almost literally, since they were untied.

"Ah...hi, Rodney." Sam hadn't realized that the accommodations were to be shared. Well, he'd had a feeling that this Leap involved McKay somehow anyway, so it was probably for the best he got the opportunity to talk with the man. Sam waved a little at McKay, who grinned broadly and brandished a basket he was carrying.

"Sorry I'm late. I, ah, got some _stuff_ from Mara." McKay waggled his eyebrows in a completely disturbing way, and began to shed his jacket, boots, vest, and pack by the table.

"Stuff? What stuff?" Sam asked curiously, taking a step towards the basket.

McKay snatched it up, grinning. "Oh, you know, _stuff_..." The eyebrows waggled again as McKay's eyes looked him up and down. "Oh, hey, were you looking at yourself in the mirror?" McKay swept up to Sam, depositing the basket on the bed, and, with a nudge at his shoulder, turned him around to face the mirror again.

Sam's skin prickled and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up as he faced Sheppard's reflection in the mirror, with McKay standing behind him, peeking over his shoulder. Especially when McKay's hands came up and curled around his waist, right where the cream-colored shirt tucked into the waistband of the dark green kilt.

McKay's chin hooked over the top of Sam's shoulder and his body settled closely in back of Sam's body. _Oh, boy..._ Sam swallowed nervously. He could feel the hard, solid heat of McKay's erection through all their layers of clothing, pressed familiarly against his ass. Sam swallowed again.

"I don't blame you for ogling yourself in that outfit," murmured McKay, oblivious to Sam's discomfort. His eyes were dreamy-looking in the mirror's reflection. "You look so hot. So, _so_ sexy." He turned his face to the side of Sam's neck and began to kiss tenderly, hungrily, along the taut tendon there, nibbling the skin where the neck joined the shoulder, nuzzling and breathing on the skin behind Sam's ear. "I'm sorry if, you know, I didn't spend much time with you tonight. It's just...just..." his hand swept down Sam's kilt-covered flank and landed on the skin of the hairy thigh just below the hem of the garment. "I would have made a spectacle of myself in public." McKay's hand caressed lingeringly up Sam's thigh, hiking up the fabric of the kilt. Sweat broke out on Sam's forehead, and his heartbeat felt like a throbbing fist in his throat.

"Speaking of which," McKay's voice grew sharper, less dreamy, and his hand froze in place. Ironically, Sam felt his panic momentarily turn down a notch. "You _really_ didn't have to flirt with Hurst's daughters to get my attention." McKay delivered a sharp nip to Sam's earlobe, then a series of tiny licks. "Believe me, you _had_ my attention. Teyla and Mara were giving me raised eyebrows all evening, and Ronon and Adran were laughing at me." He nuzzled and licked behind the earlobe some more, one hand resuming its leisurely, caressing voyage up Sam's thigh, the other tugging the shirt out of the waistband of the kilt, then sliding underneath, fingers swirling in the hair on Sam's belly. Sam drew in a sudden gasp. _Jumping Jehosaphat! I can't be getting turned on! _

"R-Rodney?" Sam's voice came out just the slightest bit squeaky. His hands were shaking and he didn't know where to put them. His knees were shaking, too.

"Mmm?" McKay's fingers were playing in Sam's pubic hair now, and Sam found that strangely distracting, especially since the other hand was drawing a lazy spiral on Sam's chest, heading inevitably for his right nipple, which was tightening up in anticipation.

"Rodney, I--AH!" McKay had simultaneously flicked a fingernail against Sam's nipple, bitten down on the join between neck and shoulder, and cupped Sam's balls in his hand. A hot shock of terror and desire jolted through Sam and his back arched, pressing his body deeper into McKay's hands, McKay's teeth. His hands had found a place to land after all, reaching behind him to grasp McKay's solid thighs and pull him closer so that Sam could grind his ass up against McKay's erection. Thought froze in a loop of panic and arousal in his dazed mind as he realized that he'd slouched back, knees bent, so that he could loll his head back against McKay's shoulder. Sam's shuddering gasps ended in thin, high pitched whining sounds at the back of his throat as McKay's clever, clever hands played with Sam's balls and nipples in ways that nobody in his memory had ever done before, as McKay's tongue licked wetly at the skin that he'd bitten before he began to blow cool air across the dampened flesh.

Sam groaned. "Rod-ney, wait," he panted.

"Hmm? What is it, John?" McKay's voice was preoccupied, but his hands stilled, one still gently cupping Sam's balls, the other flattened in the middle of Sam's chest, over his thrumming heartbeat. The slow, swaying motion of his groin against Sam's ass gradually stopped as well. His glittering eyes met Sam's in the mirror.

Sam winced from his own reflection. That it wasn't his own body he was seeing, but Colonel Sheppard's, hardly made it easier to look. The shirt had fallen mostly open, and completely off the shoulder nearest McKay's wandering mouth. The opening showed Sam his own heaving chest, McKay's hand standing out pale against the dark chest hair and the flushed, pointed nipples, perspiration gleaming against his collarbone. His cheeks were flushed, his mouth was slack and rosy-lipped, and his eyes were glazed and dilated. _Amazing how much terror and desire resemble each other_. But no, he couldn't lie to himself. It wasn't just fear. The wretched kilt was tenting up in front, and it wasn't all due to the bulk of McKay's hand under there. Sam desperately tried to remember if he'd ever Leaped into a gay man before. Wouldn't he have remembered that he liked gay sex? That seemed like it would have been a memorable thing.

"Rodney. Rodney, we can't. We can't do this here." Sam licked his lips and consciously straightened up, taking his hands off of McKay's thighs, feeling McKay's hands leave his skin as Sam took a half-step forward. He couldn't-- He couldn't do this. Couldn't intrude between Sheppard and his lover this way. Even if McKay never knew. _Sam_ would know. He turned to face McKay, who was still standing far too close, the front of his trousers tenting way too disturbingly.

McKay harrumphed in seeming irritation. "Oh, _come on_! Don't give me that." He settled one hand on Sam's waist and brought the other one to the back of Sam's neck. "I get it. I do. You have to be a conscientious commander. You can't let our actions in the field--" McKay waggled his eyebrows again. "Compromise us or put us in a situation that endangers the team or the mission. And, usually, you'll notice, I'm one hundred percent behind that. I'm all about safety, believe me. You'll recall that I'm almost _never_ the one who asks for nookie in abandoned barns or caves or whatnot, eh, Mr. Horny?"

Sam opened his mouth to reply, and left it open, having absolutely nothing to say. McKay took advantage of the situation by using that grip on Sam's neck to pull him down into a kiss. Sam didn't recall ever kissing another man, either, although his weird memory lapses meant that he well might have for all he knew. But even if he had, he was certain it wasn't anything like this kiss. A kiss like _this_, he would have remembered. It started soft and tender and progressed into wet and lewd, then zagged back to tender again. Several times. It took a hundred percent of Sam's attention. He didn't realize that the hands he'd brought up to McKay's shoulders to push him away were now clutching him closer. He hadn't noticed that McKay had walked them both to the side of the bed. Until, at last, McKay broke the kiss, slowly, and suddenly pushed Sam back onto the bed. Sam sat abruptly with a bounce.

He swallowed. "Listen, Rodney--"

"No, John, look, it's fine. This is as safe offworld as we're going to get--safer, in some ways, than Atlantis. Adran says the alarm system we put on the gate for them works great. The underground bunker system is in good repair again, and this moon hasn't been culled by the Wraith for generations." McKay had stripped off his own shirt and unbuckled his belt. He leaned down and cupped Sam's face to bestow another kiss, warm and sweet and frighteningly arousing. "Besides, you didn't have a problem making love the last time we were here. Anyway, it's our anniversary." McKay smoothed the fabric of Sam's open shirt off both shoulders leaving it pooling around Sam's lower arms in favor of caressing Sam's chest and throat with his fingertips.

"An-anniver-sary?" Sam found himself gasping in gulps of air.

McKay waved a finger in his face. "Our six-month wedding anniversary. We got married here on Aylesta six Atlantis months ago. Teyla said you wouldn't remember." McKay grinned crookedly. "To be perfectly honest, _I_ didn't remember either. Do you know _Ronon_, of all people, reminded me? I think he was really touched that you wanted him for your best man. Who knew he was such a romantic?"

"Wed-ding?" Sam's voice had gone oddly high-pitched.

McKay frowned. "Well, you did get a little drunk at the reception, but I would have thought that you'd remember Hildalena marrying us the last time we were here." His face got a little dreamy. "It's certainly a vivid day in _my_ memory--it's the first time you let me fuck you. Ronon wanted me to get you a present, but Teyla thought that might be more appropriate for the year-anniversary."

McKay had stripped off his pants and underwear. Sam's eyes were relentlessly caught on the other man's large, bobbing erection. It was very...pink.

"P-present?" Sam's voice wavered and his thoughts were disjointed, but he thought that he could be excused, because of the way that McKay was carefully draping back the kilt so that it fanned artfully around Sam's hips, exposing his genitals, like a flower petal surrounding a pistil and stamen. Sam's own erection was obviously very agreeable to McKay's plans. Sam swallowed. Hard. _Oh, boy, this is gonna happen. It's really going to happen..._

McKay leaned forward and cupped Sam's face in one broad palm, the other hand resting on Sam's naked knee. He took Sam's mouth in a warm, wet, leisurely kiss. Sam found himself leaning forward as McKay pulled away. "You want a present, Colonel?" McKay said softly, as he slowly sank to his knees between Sam's spread legs, looking at Sam from beneath long, dark eyelashes. "How about a nice little blowjob? Ow, my back is killing me," he complained, ruining the romantic effect. "And how about handing me a pillow for my knees so I don't have to kneel on this hard floor, hmm?" McKay began stroking deliberately up Sam's thighs. Sam stared at him, then wordlessly reached for a pillow on the bed and handed it over.

Sam swallowed down his fear and let loose a groan as McKay began to suck him.

***

They left the next morning, apparently needing to be at some meeting with a group called "SG-1" back at their home base the next day. Sam was grateful to be wearing pants again. McKay was bouncing and happy, having an arm-waving conversation with Adran all the way back to the stargate. He carried his basket with the gift of "stuff" from Mara--apparently several jars of a very good quality lubricant. Sam thought uneasily about what McKay would eventually want to do with that gift later on, and wished he didn't know what was in the basket.

Teyla and Ronon carried their own baskets, and Sam restrained his curiosity from asking what was inside. He probably didn't want to know about them either.

At the stargate, Hildalena, Mara, Adran, little Jospin, Leylor, Hurst, their daughters, and several other townsfolk who evidently considered themselves friends, all spent several minutes noisily and affectionately bidding the team goodbye and safe voyage, extracting many promises for their return in the near future.

Finally it was time to leave. "Teyla, please take us home," Sam nodded to Teyla, relieved when Teyla simply nodded back and proceeded to dial the DHD device and produce a wormhole. McKay spoke with their home base to let them know they were returning, and then it was a matter of waving goodbye and stepping into the watery-looking surface.

***

As before, when Sam stepped through the wormhole, he thought desperately of contacting his home base, and the wormhole's energy took him to Project Quantum Leap headquarters in New Mexico.

He found Colonel Sheppard in the Waiting Room, slumped at a card table, playing a morose game of Solitaire.

"Where's Al?" Sam asked him.

Sheppard turned quickly, leaping up and scattering cards over the floor. "Beckett! Where's my team? Are they okay?"

"They're fine, Colonel. We're on our way back to your base right now. Where is Admiral Calavicci?" said Sam, with a large dollop of patience.

"Uh. He's out negotiating clearance to be told about our project." Sheppard hooked his thumb over his shoulder. "Listen, what the hell is going on? The Admiral won't tell me--if he really _is_ an admiral, that is. All I know is that I was _abducted_ by you people while my team was on a dangerous mission and you seemed to take over my _life_ without them even noticing! How can you do that?"

Sam sighed deeply. "Okay, okay, calm down, calm down. You're not helping the situation by getting upset."

Sheppard braced his hands on his hips and scowled mutinously. "I'm damned tired of aliens taking over my body, is all. How the hell has nobody noticed that you're not me?"

"I'm not an alien, Colonel. I promise you, I'm as human as you are. I'm just stuck Leaping into other people's lives to fix some kind of problem. Your friends see _you_ when they look at me, even though it's somehow _me_ that's really there." Sam raised a hand to ward off the questions he could see Sheppard was about to ask. "Listen, we don't have time for this. I don't even know _why_ I'm in your life. The thing is, I won't be able to Leap out of your life again until I resolve whatever problem I was brought in to solve. If it helps, I think it has something to do with your husb--with Rodney McKay."

"How do you know that? Is Rodney in trouble?" Sheppard frowned and paced back and forth a tense few steps.

"It's just that I've learned that there are no coincidences with this thing," Sam explained. "And I've met McKay before. Tell me about Rodney, Colonel. What event in Rodney's life have I Leaped in to prevent? Or to cause? Is Rodney in the middle of something important? Dangerous?"

Sheppard threw up his hands abruptly, stalking back and forth like an angry animal. "When is McKay _not_ in the middle of something important or dangerous? Beckett, Rodney's doing important, dangerous, _super-classified work--that I can't _tell_ you about--_all the damned time!"

Sam felt the intense dizziness sweep over him again. _Oh, no. Not now!_

"Beckett!" Obviously, Sheppard had noticed him fading out as well.

"It doesn't necessarily have to have anything to do with any of your classified work, Colonel. It could be something personal. Whatever it is, it's something that's going to happen soon. Tell Al, Sheppard. Everything you can, about Rodney, about his work, his life, anything you can think of. It could mean his _life_, Colonel!"

_Or yours_, he thought, but didn't say, as the giant whirlpool sucked him away from the look of dismay on Sheppard's face....

***

Sam didn't remember exiting the wormhole on the other side at all. He woke up to a confusing blur of light and noise and incredible pain, as if somebody had taken a hammer to his head. "Uh," he croaked and tried to lift his head. Violent pain attacked him through his eyeballs and before he knew it, he was retching helplessly. Somebody helped roll him over onto his side, cleaned him up and kept him from choking on his own vomit. He became aware of a neck brace holding his neck and head rigid, an IV attached to the back of one hand.

After a long while, the urge to vomit faded, but his head still felt like someone had used it for batting practice. "Ow," he complained weakly, keeping his eyes closed. "What happened?"

"You decided you wanted to drill a new hole into a gateroom wall--with your _head_," McKay informed him acerbically. McKay's fingers held on to Sam's free hand fiercely, squeezing.

"Fortunately, Dr. Beckett says you seem to only have sustained a mild concussion," Teyla's soothing voice was accompanied by a gentle squeeze to one of his sock-clad feet.

"He still wants to run you through the machine that looks inside your bones," Ronon said contemplatively, patting his other ankle.

"I will go alert Dr. Beckett that you are awake," Teyla told him. Sam only just kept himself from shaking his head in confusion. _Huh? Dr. Beckett? Did they see the real him instead of John Sheppard after all? Or had Sheppard followed him back through the wormhole somehow and now--through the magic of Quantum Leaping--looked to these people like Sam Beckett? His head hurt too much to even let him really think about it._

"Ronon?" Teyla's tone was reminding.

"Oh. Guess I'll tell Weir you're awake. She wanted to know."

Both their teammates thoughtfully gave Sheppard and McKay a few moments of privacy. Sam had wondered how Colonel Sheppard had managed to keep his affair with McKay a secret on a military base. Now he had his answer. Accomplices.

"I'm glad your brains didn't leak out of that thick skull of yours." McKay stroked Sam's wrist with two fingers. "I'm so sorry, John. I should have realized--" he whispered.

"What are you talking about, Rodney?" Sam asked, half irritably.

"John! I'm so relieved you're finally awake." The dark-haired woman who came up to his bedside startled him with the volume of her voice, making Sam realize that the others had been speaking very quietly in deference to his enormous headache.

Sam squinted up at her, the light still bothering his eyes. "Um, hi," he said, not very coherently.

"Elizabeth," McKay acknowledged her, taking a step back away from Sam's bed. "Carson's on his way."

_Elizabeth_ smiled and nodded. "Very well, Rodney. I'll save questions about how John is doing until Dr. Beckett gets here and tells us all."

_Dr. Beckett?_ Sam frowned deeply.

"What? What hurts? Do you need to puke again?" McKay's voice sounded worried. "Carson, I think Sheppard's going to need the basin again."

"Aye, lad, we've got you," said a calm voice with a surprising Scottish accent. Sam looked up into a grizzled face with bright blue eyes.

A basin was held conveniently for him, but he gave a minute shake of the head. "No. I'm okay."

"If you're sure? As you like. Rodney, here, hold this." The man pulled a penlight out of the pocket of his lab coat and Sam suppressed a groan over what he knew was coming next.

"Carson," said Elizabeth.

"Dr. Weir," Carson acknowledged, before shining his penlight into first one, then the other of Sam's eyes, checking for the pupil responses. Sam tried to keep from flinching too much.

"Dr. Beckett, what's your prognosis? How is Colonel Sheppard doing?" Dr. (Elizabeth) Weir asked.

Dr. (Carson) Beckett was now gently palpating Sam's head and neck. "Well, Dr. Weir, as far as we've been able to determine, Colonel Sheppard's head is as hard as it usually is. Now that he is awake, I'd like to run him through the Ancient MRI machine one more time and confirm that, along with the lack of skull fracture, he hasn't developed any intracranial hemorrhages."

That was good to know. He thought. Sam gazed up at the man with his name and wondered why the MRI machine was so old.

"Any idea how or why this happened, gentlemen?" asked Weir. "People usually don't come flying through the stargate that way. And, John, you were the only one on your team who did that. Everyone else came through normally."

"Ah. Dr. Weir, Elizabeth, I may, ah, have an explanation for that," McKay sounded nervous and looked tense, hands clasped behind his back, brows furrowed. He didn't meet anyone else's eyes. "It. It may-- Well, it may have been my-- In a way, it may have been somewhat my fault."

"Hey!" Sam protested automatically. "You didn't do anything." He winced at the volume of his own voice.

McKay scowled. "That's right. I did absolutely nothing. I didn't _do my job_, Colonel. Part of that job is to observe and recognize problems with the stargate. I should have recognized this one after you flew out of the wormhole on Aylesta."

"He did the same thing back on Aylesta?" asked Dr. Beckett in surprise. "Why wasn't he already injured there? None of you mentioned the Colonel being hurt when you checked in."

"Because I was _fine_," Sam insisted. Nobody listened to him.

McKay winced. "He landed in a fountain. The water landing cushioned the impact a bit. _The point_ is that he emerged from the wormhole atypically both times. I should have checked and found the cause the first time it happened. Instead, I attributed the problem to the same reason the DHD was damaged on PL3-843. Well, it _was_ the same reason, but I assumed the reason was the _wormhole_ and not the _planet_." McKay shook his head and lightly banged the side of his temple with his own fist. "Stupid. Stupid. Stupid!"

"Rodney!" Weir said sharply. "We all know that if you didn't see it, no one else here would have seen the problem either. Just tell me what the problem _was_ so that I can implement procedures to keep it from reoccurring. Right now, I've shut down all gate activity. We need to _fix_ this problem, Dr. McKay, not spend time in useless recriminations."

"Don't you see? You don't have to suspend gate activity, Elizabeth." McKay grimaced. "Because there is no problem with the gate, per se. The problem was with PL3-843, or rather that mineral with the intriguing energy signature I wanted to investigate. The radiation from the mineral made our IDC's useless, confused the readings on my instruments, and I believe that the mineral is also responsible for the DHD being disabled on that planet. The inhabitants disabled it themselves, because traveling through the stargate was dangerous."

Sam began to get an inkling of what McKay was aiming at. "And I was the only one carrying the mineral sample from PL3-843, both times I traveled through the wormhole."

McKay pointed at him. "Exactly."

Sam wondered if the mineral had allowed him to hijack the wormhole to Project Quantum Leap, or if it had been responsible for pulling him out before he wanted to return. Or if had nothing to do with his forceful wormhole exit at all, and poor Rodney was blaming himself for not noticing something that was due solely to Sam's meddling. Not that he could bring up the _reason_ why McKay might not be at fault....

"Problem solved, then." Sam tried for cheerful. "I won't do that anymore."

Weir snorted a fairly inelegant laugh for such an elegant woman. She patted Sam's wrist lightly. "Good to see you're doing so well, John." She looked up at the doctor. "Carson, will Colonel Sheppard be on his feet by the time SG-1 arrives on the _Daedalus_ tomorrow?"

Carson Beckett frowned. "Aye. If his scans are normal, I'll release him from the infirmary tomorrow, on restricted duty." He shook a finger at Sam. "That means no offworld missions for a few days, Colonel. Meetings and paperwork _only_. And not even those, if your headache hasn't subsided by tomorrow morning. Do you understand me, son?"

Sam guessed from the doctor's tone of voice that this was an occasion for pouting, so he pouted. He nodded slowly, winced as the movement made his head pound worse, and pouted some more. Relieved looks all around the bedside rewarded him for a good guess.

"Rest well, John," Weir told him, patting his wrist again. "I'll see you in the morning." She waved and left.

"Only fifteen more minutes, Rodney," Dr. Beckett told McKay. "And then I want the Colonel left in peace so that he can rest through the night. Tell that to Ronon and Teyla as well. You can all come and get him in the morning." He patted Sam's ankle. "Just press the call button for a nurse if you're in any discomfort, Colonel. We'll be coming to get you for your final MRI just after Rodney leaves, and then we'll let you rest."

McKay waited a heartbeat after the doctor had left, and then crept closer to Sam's bedside, his hand dropping almost accidentally on the bed next to Sam's own. Sam took the hint and wrapped his fingers around McKay's. It felt comforting. "I'll be okay, Rodney," he said softly. "My head is apparently as hard as you all keep saying."

"You slay me, Colonel. What a wit!" McKay scowled, voice dripping with sarcasm. "You could have been killed." He squeezed Sam's fingers.

"But I'm _fine_," Sam assured him. He looked up into Rodney McKay's sad blue eyes. "Just fine, Rodney."

***

"Sam! Sam, wake up!" Al's familiar voice dragged Sam out of a fitful sleep.

"Al?" he croaked hopefully. He slit his eyes open and peered around the dimly lit corner of the infirmary where his bed was located.

"Oh, thank goodness! Sam, I'm so glad I finally found you. You don't know what Gushie and Ziggy had to go through to get me here."

Sam's heart did a little leap in his chest as he spied Al's familiar face, the usual cigar being waved around in extravagant gestures. "Al! Oh boy, am I glad you're finally here!"

"It looks like I was almost too late. Are you okay? How did you end up in the hospital? Did the space monsters get you?" Al scowled impressively in worry.

Sam levered his upper body up gingerly into an almost-sit, elevating the head of the bed. The headache wasn't too bad any more. "No, I'm okay. I just hit my head and they're keeping me overnight for observation. Tell me you're kidding about the space monsters, Al. So far, all I've seen are people."

"Well, apparently there are a lot of people scattered around Out There, but there sure _are_ space monsters--snaky things that burrow inside you and take over your body, killer robots that look just like people, and space vampires! I'm gonna have nightmares for _weeks_ after this. Sam, did you know you're actually in _another galaxy_?"

"Al? _What_\--? Another _galaxy_?" Oh, golly jeez. Another galaxy, _space vampires_, now he'd absolutely heard it all. And wasn't he thinking just yesterday that this Leap was much less weird than usual, not-being-on-Earth notwithstanding?

"Yeah, Sam. Sorry. You're in the Pegasus Galaxy--specifically, in the mythological City of Atlantis, only it's real and it's in another galaxy and it was made by aliens." Al flung his arms in the air. "I can't believe I just said that." Al pointed his cigar at Sam.

"Well, if I'm here in another galaxy, then I must have made this Leap for a pretty important reason, Al," Sam said, determination lending him resolve. "Does Ziggy have any idea what I've Leaped in to solve?"

"You were right, Sam. It was about Dr. Rodney McKay," said Al, pacing back and forth, waving his cigar. He tried to read his PDA, then tapped it on the side a few times and tilted his head sideways to read it better. "Ziggy says that there's an 82% probability that it's about McKay and his sister, Jean Miller, who is supposedly another genius physicist. Apparently, a few months from now, McKay and Mrs. Miller collaborate on a project to create some kind of big super-battery, only they end up destroying a whole other universe!"

Sam gaped. "A whole _universe_? Are you sure that's right, Al?"

Al tapped the side of his PDA again. It squawked at him. He scowled. "Yeah, Sam. At least Ziggy thinks so. At least it's not _our_ universe. Ziggy says that last year, McKay destroyed most of a solar system trying to develop a new weapon system. This guy really plays with big stakes."

"Oh boy!" Sam exclaimed, thunderstruck. "Al, how am I supposed to prevent him from destroying a whole _universe_?"

"Colonel Sheppard?" The nurse's voice startled Sam and Al both. Sam ducked his head guiltily. He probably hadn't been remembering to keep his voice down very well. "Colonel Sheppard, are you in pain?" The young, round faced nurse stopped by the foot of Sam's bed. He looked over the monitors and took Sam's pulse. "Sir? Are you feeling okay? Your heartrate's is a little fast."

"I'm fine," Sam answered hastily. "Couldn't sleep."

The young man looked earnest and kindly. "I can give you some medication for that, if you like. Dr. Beckett's authorized it, if you needed it. Or pain medication, if you're in discomfort. You really don't have to suffer, Sir." By the young man's crewcut, Sam reasoned that he was a soldier under Sheppard's command. Sam wondered if there was some protocol that he was inadvertently forgetting to do. Should he be saluting or something?

"I'm fine," he repeated. "A bad dream, is all. I'll just....lie down here and be quiet and maybe I can go to sleep on my own, okay?"

"Whatever you say, Sir," said the nurse, apparently satisfied. He plumped Sam's pillow, lowered the head of Sam's bed, and pulled the privacy curtain around it. "Just push the call button if you need anything, Sir. It's no trouble. Please don't hesitate."

Sam curled on his side and tucked his arm under his head. He nodded. "Sure. No problem. Good night."

"Good night, Sir." The nurse finally left.

"Sorry Sam." Al's hologram poked halfway through the privacy curtain. It looked like the curtain bisected him. "I forgot to tell you that Colonel Sheppard is the military commander of Atlantis base. The military presence is international, but there are lots of Marines. Even though Sheppard is Air Force." Al scratched his head in befuddlement.

"Never mind that, Al," Sam whispered intently. "Tell me what Ziggy says I've got to do to stop a universe from dying."

***

Sam sighed, his breath ruffling McKay's hair. The other man was wrapped around him in sleep, his head tucked firmly under Sam's chin, his arms and legs wound possessively around Sam's body.

As soon as Sam had been released from the infirmary that morning, he'd gone in search of McKay. Directed to McKay's lab, he'd asked McKay if he could speak with him privately about something. He didn't realize that McKay would take it as a request for early-morning-nookie. They'd gone back to McKay's quarters and McKay had instantly begun to grope and kiss him as soon as they were out of the public corridor. With difficulty, Sam had detached himself and insisted that he _really_ wanted to talk.

"Oh my God, are you still sick? Why did Carson let you out of the infirmary? You've suffered a stroke, an aneurysm, what? What? Stop laughing! It's not funny! You never want to 'talk'," McKay exclaimed, making air quotes.

Sam hugged him, quick and hard, then set the man back, hands on McKay's shoulders to keep him back. "I don't want to talk about _me_, Rodney," he said, trying to sound reasonable. "I want to talk about _you_. It just struck me when we visited Aylesta that we're married--at least on Aylesta--and I don't know as much about you as I should. Tell me about your childhood. Where did you grow up? Did you have any brothers or sisters?"

"You _have_ gone insane. Or, wait-- Is there a pod somewhere? Honestly, has someone else taken over your body again?" McKay's eyes gleamed with new suspicion.

This was the second time someone mentioned aliens taking over Colonel Sheppard's body. A seriously uncomfortable thought, especially since it made his own position here a bit more tenuous than usual. The people here might be less inclined to merely dismiss inconsistencies in the Colonel's behavior. To distract McKay from that line of inquiry, Sam pulled him in and kissed him. Thoroughly. He got a bit...distracted...himself for a while, but managed to pull back before things got _too_ heated and out-of-control. "Rodney," he breathed, eyes locked on McKay's vivid blue eyes, fingers buried in McKay's soft hair, thumbs stroking McKay's cheekbones gently. "Indulge me. Please."

McKay treated him to another incredulous look, but eventually Sam got him rambling on about his childhood, and learned about his Grade Six Science Fair project--no wonder the man would end up blowing up solar systems and destroying universes if he started life by building nuclear weapons as a _child_! Eventually, Sam steered the conversation around to McKay's sister, Jean Miller, and McKay ended up showing him a video clip he'd made "last year, during the siege, when we were all sure we were going to die."

So McKay and his sister were estranged, and McKay wanted to reach out, reconnect. Sam was usually all for family togetherness, but in this instance, maybe it would be better for that endangered universe out there if McKay and Mrs. Miller stayed estranged for a few more years. He wasn't sure how to accomplish that, though.

Eventually, worn out by his emotional outpouring, McKay had crawled into bed and demanded John join him for a brief nap. Sam had complied, a bit bemused when McKay wrapped around him like a clinging vine. He was a little worried that McKay would demand sex once he woke up, but figured he had at least one "Honey, I've got a headache from the concussion" get-out-of-sex-free card to play.

"Whoa, Sam! Sorry, I'll come back later!" Al's hologram suddenly appeared, and then he waved his hands in the air in front of his face and prepared to step back and away.

"Al! Wait!" Sam hissed, as loudly as he dared. Luckily, McKay was a sound sleeper. He continued lightly snoring.

Al slowly lowered his hands from shielding his eyes. "Oh. You're...done? I guess?"

"We didn't _do_ anything in the first place!" Sam scowled at Al. "See? Both still fully dressed. Well, except for shoes. McKay just wanted to nap."

"Okay, okay, calm down," Al said, patting the air in front of him in what he probably thought was a soothing manner.

"I _am_ calm--well, as calm as I can be, under the circumstances," said Sam softly. "Anyway, tell me. What else did you get out of Sheppard? Was Ziggy able to come up with any advice?"

"Well, Sheppard coughed up a few more details about McKay. He's really allergic to lemon, and will probably freak out if there is the slightest hint of any citrus in any food he might consume. He's not that comfortable handling a gun, but he usually shoots what he's aiming at, when he remembers to aim. He can't fly in a straight line. But he is absolutely brilliant, and--and I quote--'incredible under pressure'. Sheppard says he usually panics at first, but the worse things get, the steadier he gets and the better he focuses. Sheppard says if you get in a tight situation and McKay is panicking, just bark at him and threaten him to turn up the pressure a little bit more and he settles right down. That's really weird, Sam, I've got to say. I hope you aren't here long enough to get into any situation where you need _that_ guy to think on his feet." Al waved his cigar at McKay's squished and somewhat drooly countenance.

Sam grimaced. "Well, I guess we'll cross that bridge when we come to it, Al. I found out that McKay is estranged from his sister, who lives back on Earth, so they won't be killing a universe any time soon. If that's the case, I'm wondering why I Leaped in _now_. Something must happen in the next few days that has bearing on the whole destroying a universe thing. Can Ziggy tell me what happens to McKay in the next few days?"

Al tapped the side of his PDA, frowned, then smacked it soundly, producing an electronic groaning whine from the device. "Well, Sam, it says here that McKay goes on a mission with a group called SG-1 after you all meet with them this afternoon. You--or rather, Colonel Sheppard--can't go because of your concussion. He's still on medical restriction. McKay goes to help SG-1 with something called a 'SuperGate', whatever that is. They end up getting attacked by a Waith--" Al chomped on his cigar and smacked the side of the PDA again. "Wraith spaceship and don't complete their mission. McKay helps them escape from the Wraith, but somebody named Colonel Carter is killed, and the Air Force convinces McKay to go back to Earth to fill in for her. It looks like there are even scarier aliens threatening Earth than this Atlantis place. While he's on Earth, McKay gets his sister involved in this Stargate Program, and they get to work developing their power source that ends up destroying a universe. Luckily, not this one."

"I wonder--" Sam frowned. "I wonder if the Leap is really because I have to prevent the destruction of that universe, Al... Sometimes...sometimes the Leaps are for personal reasons. If McKay gets transferred back to Earth, Sheppard can't go with him. The U.S. Air Force is not going to recognize a marriage made in Aylesta, much less between one of their male officers and another man. It must really hurt them both to be forcibly separated that way. Maybe I'm supposed to make sure they stay together.... Or, heck, maybe it's even to prevent Colonel Carter from getting killed--I bet that's pretty important, to her at the very least. Maybe if Carter--"

"Wha-? Where? Sam? Where's Colonel Carter? Huh?" McKay surged out of sleep, talking even before he opened his eyes and abruptly sat up. He looked around wildly. "Where's Colonel Carter? She didn't come in and see us, did she? Was I drooling? I drool sometimes when I sleep, and I wouldn't want her to see--"

"Calm down, Rodney. It's okay," Sam soothed, suddenly missing McKay's warmth and weight, even though there was a damp patch of tee-shirt on his chest from the aforementioned drool. "I was just thinking out loud, remembering that we had a meeting with Colonel Carter and the rest of SG-1 later this afternoon, don't we?"

"Oh, yes! Yes, you're right!" McKay scrambled out of bed and dashed into the bathroom.

Sam shrugged at Al's hologram and mouthed "talk to you later" at him. Al waved and stepped out through an invisible door. Sam felt a small pang, missing Al's comforting, anchoring presence. He squared his shoulders and followed McKay into the bathroom.

"What are you up to, Rodney?" Sam said, slouching against the bathroom door.

McKay shrieked and spun around from examining his reflection in the mirror, dropping a hairbrush with a clatter. "You've just scared ten years off my life!" he exclaimed theatrically, hand to his chest. "As if the Wraith don't do enough of that already. Eventually I'll end up with negative numbers and I won't even have been born yet. Haven't we had this discussion about personal boundaries and _not_ barging in on other people when they're in the bathroom?"

Sam had to grin at McKay's disheveled hair and generally flustered appearance. The hair on one side of his head was mashed flat and the other side was sticking straight up in a rather fluffy fashion. "You're not on the toilet, Rodney. You're just brushing your hair. Here, let me help." Sam reached out for the hairbrush.

"Nononono! Stay away from me with your mutant haircare products." McKay ineffectually tried to smooth down the standing-up portion of his hair. "I prefer a more natural look, thank you."

Sam chuckled, nudging McKay aside with his hip and running water over the hairbrush. The weird water-controlling mechanism of the sink gave him a moment's pause, until he figured out it was motion-sensitive. "Look, Rodney, just some warm water, see? I promise, no product." He touched his own hair, looking at Colonel Sheppard's reflection in the mirror and noting the experimental nature of the Colonel's dark mane. Suddenly, he wished fiercely for the end of this Leap, for the chance to give John Sheppard his own life back.

Sam forced a smile onto his face, shaking the excess water out of the brush, and turned back to McKay. "Come 'ere, Rodney. Let's make you all pretty for Colonel Carter."

***

The meeting with SG-1 was equal parts boring, illuminating, and incomprehensible. Sam had to pretend to know about aliens called Priors and Ori since Colonel Sheppard obviously did (Sam wondered if they were two separate alien races, or different segments of the same race.). He discovered that slouching back and not saying much--other than occasionally harassing McKay in a joke-threatening way that made Rodney look flustered in an entirely adorable manner--seemed to work. Maybe that's what Sheppard normally did.

Sam's mind raced with ideas and plans on how he could keep SG-1 from going on the mission, or lacking that, at least keep McKay from going with them. But the situation was just too dire. He couldn't think of a legitimate way to object, or even to invite himself on the mission.

Weir folded her hands and leaned forward earnestly. "John, do you think you could spare Rodney from your team?"

"Hell, you can keep him," Sam grinned at Colonels Carter and Mitchell, even as his stomach sank. Holy smokes, he had to _do_ something!

He barely kept track of the rest of the meeting as the archeologist, Dr. Jackson, and Vala Mal Doran, whose specialty he didn't remember, talked about what they needed to do while they were in Atlantis. His mind was racing.

At a break, Sam glanced over at Weir as some of the others got up for coffee. "Elizabeth, do you think I have to stay for the rest of the meeting? My head is killing me."

Weir sat up. "Of course not, John. The rest is details we can iron out. I'll email you with the minutes to keep you in the loop. Are you all right? Do you need to visit the infirmary?"

"Nah, that's okay," Sam levered himself up out of the conference room chair. His back ached and his head did hurt a little. "I'll just go rest a little bit, maybe get something to eat, take a painkiller. I'll be fine."

"If you're sure, John." Weir's forehead wrinkled in worry.

Sam pasted a nonchalant smile onto his face. "Don't worry. You won't find me passed out in a corridor or anything." He ducked out of the room, and headed briskly for the mess hall.

Al's hologram appeared next to him and followed Sam into a transporter. "Sam." Al's voice sounded very, very upset. Sam didn't look at him. His head was starting to pound. Maybe he really did need to get something to eat and a painkiller.

"Sam, whatever just happened was really, really bad. Ziggy says the probability that the other universe is destroyed jumped to 94%. And Colonel Carter's death is at 99% probability. So is McKay's transfer to the Earthside base." Al folded his arms and chomped on his cigar fretfully.

Sam scrubbed at his face before stepping out of the transporter at the corridor near the mess hall. "I know, Al. I'm still working on it. You said that Sheppard told you that McKay works best under a lot of pressure, right?"

"Well, he didn't say that _exactly_, Sam, but from what he did say, I'd bet that's true. What's your plan?" Al followed Sam into the mess hall. Sam didn't answer him as he picked up a sandwich from the available selection, then went to make a request to one of the cooks. Afterwards, Al followed him out of the mess hall again.

"What the heck are you up to, Sam? Sheppard told us that McKay is deathly _allergic_ to lemon!" Al frowned and tried to keep pace as Sam strode along, eating bites of his sandwich and stuffing the recently-obtained lemon into his jacket pocket.

"I'm doing what Sheppard would have done if he had been able to come along on this mission with McKay. I'm going to make sure a little additional pressure is applied at the right time, and trust Rodney to pull off a miracle," Sam said grimly. His headache was even worse, now. Maybe it was the stress.

"I hope you know what you're doing, Sam," said Al mournfully. As Sam reached the transporter again, Al stepped out through the invisible door of the Imaging Chamber.

Sam hoped he knew what he was doing, too.

****

Sam found Colonel Mitchell hanging around outside the conference room. It looked like the meeting had just broken up. He caught Mitchell's eye and tilted his head at him. "Colonel? Can I have a word?"

"Sure, Colonel," Mitchell smiled sunnily and sauntered by his side as Sam led him to one of the balconies overlooking the Gateroom.

"Nice," said Mitchell appreciatively, looking around. "I gotta tell you, Sheppard, it's a nice place you got here."

Sam smiled at him. "Thanks." He waved deprecatingly. "We just painted." He tilted his head back, planning how to say what he needed to say most effectively. "Well...good luck, Mitchell. Listen. If McKay gives you a hard time..."

Mitchell grinned. "I know. Just shoot him."

Sam forced a matching grin. "Yeah. Sometimes he works better under pressure, you know? Don't be afraid to crank it up. Oddly, it settles him down. Makes him focus."

Mitchell nodded knowingly. "Told you guys it's not our first barbecue, Sheppard. I can handle McKay."

Sam nodded. "Well, just in case, he's mortally allergic to citrus." He pulled the lemon from his pocket and brandished it at Mitchell.

Mitchell looked taken aback. "Really?"

"Yeah. I keep one on me at all times. Just a comfort to know it's there." He grinned and waggled his eyebrows as he handed the lemon to Mitchell, hoping the other man wouldn't see how anxious he really was.

"Uh, I guess that's good intel." Mitchell's eyebrows were doing a really comical wriggle, as if he was unsure whether to be amused or weirded out. "Ah, thanks." He stuck the lemon in his own pocket.

"You're welcome, Colonel. Good luck." He waved at Mitchell and sauntered away just as he caught McKay approaching out of the corner of his eye. His headache was back, and pounding hard behind his eyes. _Holy cow, I hope I've done the right thing. I better have not gotten McKay killed just then. Sheppard won't forgive me for getting him in trouble with his spouse as it is._

He could hear McKay's voice, nervous and blustering, behind him, as McKay spoke to Mitchell. "Ha ha ha! That's a...a good one. We're actually... We're quite close. Um."

Sam didn't hear Mitchell's response.

He went back to Sheppard's quarters and lay down. He threw his arm across his face to cover his eyes, willing his headache to go away.

"Sam? Sam, you okay?"

Sam sat up in response to Al's voice. He must have dozed. "Hey, Al. Yeah, I'll live. Just a headache." He scrubbed his hands down his face and sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees. "What happened, Al?"

Al rocked back and forth on his heels and waved his cigar around extravagantly. "It worked, Sam. It worked! McKay pulled off some miracle, and the mission was a success." Al's PDA squealed as he smacked it. Sam glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, wondering if Al would just end up breaking the device some day. "Somehow--and this is weird, but that seems par for the course around here--the Wraith spaceship and the...is it Ori?...spaceship end up destroying each other. Colonel Carter survives and goes back to Earth. McKay stays on Atlantis. He and Mrs. Miller still end up working on the super-battery project, but later on, and Mrs. Miller comes here to Atlantis to do it. Somehow they figure out how to save the other universe." Al shook the PDA and tilted it. "I can't figure out what Ziggy is saying here. Something about a Meredith McKay. Does Dr. McKay have another sibling?" Al shrugged. "Anyway, it looks like you did it, Sam!"

Sam looked up and shook his aching head at Al, glum. He had allowed himself to hope for a moment, but.... "Then why haven't I Leaped out, Al? I've been having second thoughts. Maybe the Leap was about saving McKay and Sheppard's marriage. If that was it, then I'll be here forever. Using the lemon to ramp up the stress was the only idea that occurred to me on the spur of the moment. But I should have thought about it some more. _Sheppard_ coming along on the mission and turning up the pressure would have been one thing, but delegating it to someone who's essentially a stranger--I don't think McKay's even met Mitchell before today--that's something else. Rodney will be angry with Sheppard now, and justifiably so. That lemon trick was despicable from somebody who's supposed to be Rodney's _friend_, much less a loved-one. It might even ruin their marriage. And I can't ever tell him why I really did it. Neither can Sheppard." He ran his fingers through Sheppard's hair, wishing it was his own, that this body was his own, and not borrowed. Sam couldn't even remember what his own body felt like anymore; all he knew was how homesick he was for his own life.

Al blinked. "You think it was that important, Sam? It was just a joke, wasn't it? Just a lemon, for goodness' sake!"

"You're the one who told me McKay was mortally allergic to lemon, Al. You wouldn't say 'it was just some arsenic' if I'd given Mitchell a bottle of poison to threaten McKay with." Sam rubbed the back of his neck, the headache getting worse yet again. "It's basically the same thing, at least to Rodney. Tell me. What does Ziggy say happens now?"

Al pressed some buttons on his PDA and wrinkled his forehead at the results he found. "Huh. There's now a 97% probability that McKay dies within the year. He and Sheppard have some kind of falling-out, McKay ends up transferring off of Sheppard's team to a Major Leonard's team, and is killed on a mission to someplace designated M1B-129. Wow." Al blinked in obvious, unhappy amazement. "It says here that Major Leonard shoots McKay right through the heart and then blows himself up, along with the rest of his team. They never know why. Then there's a 99% probability that Sheppard dies a few months later, along with Dr. Weir, Ms. Emmagan, Mr. Dex, and Dr. Beckett--Carson Beckett, I mean--on a mission to a place Ziggy's calling Asuras. Atlantis base is is--holy cow--overrun by the Asurans? Asurians? Mrs. Miller never joins the Stargate Program, because her brother died while he was working for it--and I don't blame her--so the other universe is never endangered. But Ziggy says there is now a 50% probability that the Asurans? Asurians?--those People--invade the Earth within two years of taking over Atlantis base. There's also a 30% chance that the Wraith reach the Milky Way galaxy and start enjoying an all-you-can-eat buffet. Except there's an 80% probability that the Ori take over the Milky Way galaxy before they get there, and then they start fighting over who gets to eat all the humans. Holy Cannoli! Are all these aliens vampires or something?" Al threw up his arms and paced back and forth while Sam flopped backward onto Sheppard's bed and put his hands over his face.

"I've made a real mess, haven't I, Al?" Sam knew his voice sounded muffled coming out from behind his hands, but couldn't summon the energy to raise his head.

"Sam. Sam, please, look at me."

Sam lowered his hands and slowly raised his head, feeling a thousand years old, and met Al's kind eyes.

"You'll think of something, Sam. I know you will," Al assured him earnestly.

"I've just ensured the destruction of two entire galaxies, Al! What makes you think I can fix it? I'll probably just make things worse," Sam croaked.

"Because that's what you _do_, Sam. You always find a way. I know you'll find the answer this time, too," said Al. "Why don't you settle down and finish your nap? You can't do your best thinking while you have a headache. I'll go check in with Gushie and Ziggy and Colonel Sheppard and we'll see what ideas we can come up with in the meantime." Al patted Sam's shoulder, only he'd obviously forgotten he couldn't actually touch Sam, and his hand just appeared to pass through Sam's shoulder.

Sam was used to Al doing stuff like that, so it didn't disturb him. He sighed and followed his friend's advice, crawling under the covers. He blinked as Al waved to him before appearing to walk out through an invisible door in Sheppard's surfboard.

***

"Colonel Sheppard!"

Sam turned at Teyla's voice. He'd been avoiding all of Sheppard's teammates as best he could in the wake of what he was privately calling "the Lemon Debacle," but he'd had to eat, and Teyla had caught him just as he'd been leaving the mess hall.

He waited until Teyla reached him, knowing he was not going to enjoy the ensuing conversation.

"John." Teyla's voice was very grave. _Yup. No joy here_. "John, I must speak privately with you for a moment."

Sam nodded, not meeting her eyes. "Okay, Teyla. After you."

Teyla led him outside to one of the balconies near the mess hall. Sam took a deep breath of the sea air. The view of the ocean and Atlantis' spires was beautiful, but Sam doubted Teyla had brought him here for the view. The somber expression on her face made him clench his teeth.

"John, you must know you have been behaving very strangely lately," she said, then raised her hand to stop him when he opened his mouth to give an excuse. "Do not say another word about your injury, John. We both know that you have not allowed injuries to keep you from spending time with me, or Ronon, or Rodney in the past. You may not have felt up to running with Ronon, but you could have arranged to watch one of your 'movies' with him. You may not feel strong enough to spar with me, but in the past you would have taken meals with me nonetheless. Dr. Weir thinks you are upset with her--you no longer see her except when she requests your presence at meetings. And Dr. McKay--" Her forehead wrinkled as she frowned. "Rodney has told me about the incident with the lemon-fruit. He is very, _very_ upset, John. And I must admit, it seems at the very least....rude to me, if not actively cruel.... I know your sense of humor can seem peculiar to me sometimes, without your cultural context, but Rodney usually gets your jokes." She smiled wryly. "He doesn't always _enjoy_ your jokes, but he is able to understand them. He does not understand this one, John. Neither do your friends." She tilted her head at him, waiting for him to explain.

Sam sighed, and rubbed the back of his neck. The advice Al had brought back from Colonel Sheppard wasn't panning out at all. Sheppard really must have an odd sense of humor. _He_ had thought the whole lemon thing _was_ pretty funny. He'd advised Sam to "play it cool and pretend like nothing happened. McKay will get over it as soon as some shiny new piece of technology gets his attention and he forgets all about everything else." Either the incident had hurt McKay more deeply than Sheppard had expected it to, or else Rodney hadn't found any new technology sufficiently interesting to capture all of his attention recently. He'd furiously confronted Sam after the debriefing from the mission with SG-1, and been icily polite and distant from him since then.

"I'm sorry, Teyla," Sam said meekly. "I didn't mean to avoid you guys. It's just that I don't know what to do about Rodney, and it's driving me crazy." Sheppard had also confirmed Sam's query about aliens having previously taken over his body. An incident had happened on Atlantis itself in the not-too-distant past, in which Sheppard and Dr. Weir both had been taken over by alien intelligences. And apparently there was an entire _race_ of aliens, the Goa'uld, that specialized in parasitically taking over the bodies of other sentient creatures, so everyone here was alert to the possibility that Sheppard might not be whom he claimed to be. Sam had tried staying away from Sheppard's friends so that they wouldn't have a chance to notice many differences, but it seemed that very behavior made him noticeable. It was like the situation was just getting worse and worse, no matter what he did. Oh boy!

Teyla folded her arms over her chest and arched an eyebrow. "I suggest you begin by _apologizing_ to him."

Sam groaned and slumped against the balcony railing, the breeze riffling his hair as he looked out over the ocean, unseeing. "I've already _tried_ apologizing, Teyla. He's not listening to me. What should I do?" Sam asked plaintively. After a few days of Sheppard's strategy, he'd panicked at McKay's continued stony demeanor, and cornered him to apologize. To say it hadn't gone well was an understatement.

Teyla leaned on the railing next to him, letting the breeze lift her hair from her shoulders and looking out to sea as well. "You must _continue_ to apologize until he listens to you, John. You must not allow this ill-advised foolishness to ruin your lives together. Love is too rare to throw away for nothing like this."

Sam nodded slowly. "Do _you_ accept my apology, Teyla?"

Teyla glanced over at him with affection in her gaze. "Yes, John. I cannot stay angry with you for long. Bring me back a gift the next time you visit Earth and we shall be "square" as Major Lorne says. I think you need to find Ronon and apologize to him as well. He worships you, John. That you appear to purposely ignore him hurts his feelings, although he will never admit it."

Sam winced, then nodded again. "How about Dr. Weir? How can I square things with her?"

Teyla raised both eyebrows and nodded to herself. "Go to her and ask her advice about how to effectively apologize to Dr. McKay. It will please her that you take her into your confidence about your problems, and she may well have some effective advice. Besides, she cannot stay angry with you for long, either." She smiled wryly at Sam again and left him alone to contemplate the ocean.

***

So it was on Dr. Weir's advice, and--for McKay--by her orders, that Sheppard's team returned to Aylesta. "That world has always been good for you and Rodney," Weir had said with a twinkle in her eye. Sam's own eyes had widened. Apparently they weren't asking or telling, but Weir seemed to know about and tacitly approve of Sheppard and McKay's relationship. _Accomplices, indeed._

The trip served as a good apology for Ronon and Teyla as well. Their passage through the stargate was without incident, although the others insisted on going through first and were prepared to catch him if Sam had decided to take another plunge into the fountain (which thankfully didn't happen, as Sam neither carried any of the mystery-mineral, nor used the trip to check in at New Mexico). Hildalena and her people were delighted to see them, and cheerfully held another cookout and dance in celebration of their visit.

McKay was very conspicuously busy speaking to Hurst and Adran and some of his other Aylestan friends and never even _looked_ at Sam all evening. Sam slumped disconsolately against one of the poles holding up the roof of the dancing pavilion. Couples and groups were dancing enthusiastically, if not always skillfully, to the rollicking music the live band was blaring out.

He'd tried to ask McKay to dance with him, but the other man had walked away before Sam could even get close.

"Colonel John? Sweeting, what is wrong? You seem so sad," Hildalena asked him, stepping close to his side and putting a kindly hand on his forearm. She smelled faintly of the barbecue they'd all eaten earlier.

Sam blushed faintly, looking down. "I'm sorry to put a damper on your party, ma'am." He could feel the vibrations from the vigorous clomping of the dancers through the wooden floor in the soles of his feet, and in his back, through the fabric of his jacket and the wooden pole he was leaning on. He caught a glimpse of Ronon's sweating, laughing face among the dancers.

"Nonsense! What is wrong, Sweeting? Tell your Auntie Hildalena, come now," she urged, her face warm with motherly concern.

Sam sighed. It seemed he was doomed to ask women for advice this Leap. "Rodney is angry with me."

"Ah," said Hildalena softly. She had coiled her grey hair into a braid wound around her head, and a cool breeze toyed with wisps that escaped the braid. "And what did you do to earn my Roddy's displeasure?"

Sam rubbed the back of his neck while he glanced at her. "No chance of me being the innocent party here?"

Hildalena raised a significant eyebrow.

Grimacing, Sam shrugged. "Okay, okay. I did something to upset him. It wasn't nice. But I'm sorry, and I apologized. And he just won't _listen_ to me." Sam's voice rose with frustration. He looked over at McKay, where the other man stood by the drinks table, all the way across the dancing pavilion. The crystal-imbued lantern light sparkled across McKay's profile as he gestured along with whatever he was telling Mara. McKay glanced in Sam's direction, as if somehow drawn to John's presence, then hastily looked away. It made Sam's chest ache.

"Hmm," responded Hildalena. "It seems that your real problem is that Rodney will not _forgive_ you."   
Sam sighed and nodded, downcast.

Hildalena patted his arm again. "You must speak to him of what lies in your heart, Colonel John, even if it is difficult for you to do so. And you must offer to make things right for him. Let him choose your punishment, so that his wounded pride can feel vindicated, and so that your true penitence is obvious. Do you wish me to help you, Colonel John?"

***

Hildalena's idea of "help" involved arranging to get Sam and Rodney locked into the same guest house. Sam remembered the complete lack of locks on the door the first time he'd seen this little cottage (or one just like it), so he assumed the lock and bar on the outside of the door was the result of some very quick carpentry.

McKay didn't seem as impressed by their efforts as Sam was.

"I'm a _genius_ you know! I don't have to stay in your little third rate jail for any longer than the _five minutes_ it will take me to escape after the _three seconds_ it takes me to figure out how!" Rodney bellowed at the door, delivering a last kick at it. "OW! Ow ow ow ow!" He hopped around clutching his abused foot, red-faced and furious.

"Let me see, Rodney," Sam urged.

"AS IF YOU CARE about my health, you...you _lemon-monger_!" McKay snarled at him, hopping his way to the bed and collapsing down onto it.

"You're wrong, Rodney. I do care," Sam protested. At McKay's disbelieving snort and angry glare, he added sheepishly: "Maybe I don't always show it appropriately."

Sam sank to his knees by the bed. "Please let me look at your foot, Rodney." He shuffled forward on his knees and put his hands carefully on either side of McKay's boot. "Can I look?"

McKay nodded warily. Sam slowly unlaced the boot, and gingerly removed McKay's foot from it. Gently, he peeled down the sock and studied the foot. The big toe was a little red. He touched it lightly. It felt a little warm. "I'm going to try to move it. Tell me if that hurts any more," Sam told him. He palpated the toe, and then the rest of the foot, rotated the ankle, then held the foot cradled in his hands.

"I don't think it's broken, Rodney. Maybe a bruise, though." Sam made eye contact, then leaned in close and kissed the toe lightly, caressing McKay's foot with his hand. It jerked a little and McKay snorted.

"Tickles!" McKay complained.

"I'm really sorry, Rodney," Sam said, earnestly.

McKay sighed. "I get the message. Tell me, though. Why? As well as mean-spirited, it was utterly humiliating in front of Colonel Carter. Why did you do that to me?" McKay's voice broke a little at the end, and his chin came up pugnaciously in response.

Sam looked down. He had to be convincing, yet he couldn't have McKay accusing him of being a pod-person again. Colonel Sheppard didn't strike him as the "bare his heart" type. _Please, please let me be able to fix this..._

"I might have been...you know..." He made a vague gesture.

"What? What? Homicidal? Insane? An asshole?" McKay demanded.

"Um...door number three?" Sam ducked his head. "I was kind of...it's just that you talk about her all the damned time, and then they came all the way out to Atlantis to borrow you, and what if they wanted to _keep_ you? I don't think Elizabeth has that much leverage if they wanted to take you away, and I just would have felt a whole lot better if I could have come on that mission with you—"

"Wait!" McKay stopped him with a surprised jerk of his foot. "What? Are you saying you were _jealous_? Of SG-1? Of _Colonel Carter_? Well, you might have a point there, because she _is_ insanely hot-- But, just a minute, _are you stupid? crazy_? You think I would _leave_ you for her? That I would leave _Atlantis and you_ just for the measly opportunity to work with SG-1?"

Sam grimaced, and began to massage McKay's foot. "Just. You may not have had a _choice_, Rodney. The Ori sound pretty scary. SG-1 may have wanted you back on Earth to fight them. I just wanted to provide a little incentive...to both you and SG-1, to leave you on Atlantis, right where you belong."

"You _idiot_!" McKay exclaimed vehemently. "Oh! Don't stop, keep doing that. That feels great. So, wait, just a minute here--no, don't stop the foot massage, you're still working on your apology. So--_in front of Colonel Carter_\--you just made me look like an idiot you barely tolerate because I'm reasonably good under pressure...because you don't want to lose me."

"Um. Yeah?" Sam said, a little anxiously. "It worked, didn't it?"

McKay blinked at him. "And you thought, what? that I couldn't be trusted with this information?"

Sam raised an eyebrow at him. "What were you going to tell Colonel Carter? 'I can't go back to Earth because my boyfriend--_the base commander_\--would pine away for me if I left him' ?"

"Hmph." McKay snorted, but there was something in his eyes that made Sam feel that he could finally, _finally_ relax, after what felt like months, not days, of terrible tension. "Here, get the other foot, you're leaving me all unbalanced. And then you're massaging my back. And you owe me a blowjob, too. _And_ you're cleaning my room for me for the next month."

Sam sighed, though he couldn't help the grin. "Yes, dear."

"Shut up and keep rubbing," commanded McKay, though Sam couldn't help noticing that McKay's mouth was twitching suspiciously, too. "You know you are going to pay for this horribly, don't you?"

Al chose this moment to pop in. "Sam!" What did you just do? Ziggy says--" He quickly lifted a hand to shield his eyes. "Ack! Are you doing what I think you're--oh, no, you're not. Whew, that's a relief." Al peered closely at his PDA. "Woah! Ziggy says the probability of McKay living out the year just climbed to 80%--which is supposedly excellent, because this is the Pegasus Galaxy. McKay and Sheppard stay together, McKay stays on Sheppard's team, the Asurans, Asurians, _whoever_, don't invade Earth. All the probabilities are dropping for all those bad things we talked about. This is great! You know what you just did, Sam, don't you?"

"Oh boy, do I," Sam said fervently, to both of them.

McKay sniffed. "You're just lucky I'm so very forgiving."

"You _did it_, Sam! I knew you would do it! You're a genius!" Al pumped his arms in victory.

Sam looked up at McKay and smiled. "I am lucky. I'm a very lucky man."

McKay's eyes went soft. He cupped Sam's head in his hands, and leaned forward to kiss him. Sam stretched up to meet the kiss--and Leaped.

###

**Author's Note:**

> _Spoilers:_ SG-1 season 10, episode 1003 the Pegasus Project; Season 5, episode 514 48 Hours; SGA Season 1, episode 117, Letters from Pegasus; Season 2, episode 206 Trinity, and 216 The Long Goodbye; Season 3, episode 304 Irresistible, episode 305 Progeny; episode 308 McKay and Mrs. Miller; and episode 309 Phantoms--however, I messed with the timeline a little, and put episode 309 Phantoms just after episode 304 Irresistible, and before episode 305 Progeny.  
> .  
> Some minor bits of dialog were lifted directly from "The Pegasus Project." The prologue to Quantum Leap is lifted directly from the show itself, and kudos to [Jayel_fox](http://jayel-fox.livejournal.com/profile) for letting me use her idea to include the prologue in the actual story...


End file.
